


Destiel Tumblr Prompts

by mishaminion69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Grace Kink, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Rimming, Top Dean, trueform!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13387074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishaminion69/pseuds/mishaminion69
Summary: This is a growing collection of prompts from my Tumblr blog. Tags will be added as more prompts are filled. The Explicit rating to cover all current and future chapters, as some are/will be mature.





	1. Father

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Cas finds out all the scary violent and John-like things he’s been doing and they Talk.

Castiel stared up at the old and somewhat yellowed ceiling of Dean’s bedroom. It was crumbling in the corners and a few mysterious stains spotted the area just above the door. Castiel thought it was one the most beautiful things in the world.

He breathed in deep, taking in the old and musk, the leather and gunpowder, the freshness of laundered sheets, and the underlying scent that was Dean. Not because he needed the oxygen, but because he wanted to savor this. All too soon after escaping the Empty, Cas had found himself locked in a cage with Lucifer, with no way to reach out the Winchesters. To Dean. All he could do was wait, search for weak spots, build up his grace. The longing he’d felt from Dean was painful, a knot in his chest that tugged at his wings. They wanted to spread, fly, carry him back to the soul he’d branded long ago. The soul his grace ached for, reached for every time they were in the same room.

Finally, he was back. He was home. His grace sung, content and warm, with his human lying next to him. Dean’s soft breathing tickled his ear, his scruff scratching against Castiel’s shoulder as the hunter slept. An arm was slung possessively across Castiel’s chest, calloused fingers clutching at his side almost desperately. Castiel understood this. He’d been torn apart from his hunter too many times, and he wasn’t stupid enough to believe the debacle with Asmodeus was the last.

Cas instinctively tightened his hold on Dean, causing the man to grunt in his sleep. Castiel frowned and loosened his arms only a bit, that feeling of contentment rapidly fading. What he’d learned after he finally reunited with Sam and Dean was rolling around in his head. Sam had pulled himself aside once they had gotten back to the bunker, expressing concern for Dean and his behavior as of late.

Admittedly, Dean was not the most stable person. Well, neither of them were. It came with the life. Dean had to grow up at the age of four, after watching his mother burn on the ceiling. Sam had no childhood to speak of, and when he tried to have a normal life it was always snatched away. In a bloody, violent way. And after a few ‘end of all things’, well you couldn’t really blame Dean for being a little rough around the edges.

But what Sam had confided in him was, Cas thought, just a little alarming.

“Mngg,” Dean snuffled up against Castiel’s neck, eyelashes fluttering across the skin there. “Wha’er you thinkin’ about so much?”

“Hm?” Castiel licked his lips, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. It was sticking up at odd angles from Cas’ constant need to touch it.

“Cut the crap,” Dean huffed, finally shifting to look up at the angel. “You’re all tense and broody, and it’s messin’ with my nap. What’s up?”

Castiel hesitated, fingers stilling. If there was one thing he learned from running with the Winchesters it was that one didn’t talk about one’s feelings. Especially with Dean. Often times when attempted, it ended in a yelling match and someone storming off. Nothing solved and everyone involved either hurt or angry.

“…Sam and I talked,” Cas finally murmured, closing his eyes when he felt Dean stiffen almost immediately.

“Yeah,” Dean clipped. “So.”

“He…made me aware,” Castiel continued. “Of some of the difficulties you’ve been having.”

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean huffed, already trying to pull away. Castiel let him go and sat up as the hunter rolled over to show him his back. “Sam is worrying over nothin’. He thinks he’s a damn therapist or some-“

“You pulled a gun on an innocent girl,” Castiel interrupted firmly, eyes trained on the back of Dean’s head. “That is not ‘nothing’, Dean.”

The silence stretched out, tense and thick. Castiel waited, not sure if he’d made a mistake to bring all this up now. Sometimes he wasn’t sure where he stood with Dean. Their history was messy at best and old wounds tended to flare up from time to time.

“I wasn’t gonna…” Dean started, voice wavering. He swallowed and tried again. “C’mon, man…you know I wouldn’t have actually hurt her. It was a bluff. I needed-“

“I know, Dean,” Cas said gently. “But it doesn’t excuse-“

“I know, damn it!” Dean shot up and twisted around, his green eyes dark with anger and regret. “Fuck, Cas, I…” He stopped and scrubbed a rough hand over his face. “You were gone. Again.”

Castiel winced and looked down at the sheets.

“And I was tryin’ not to worry about it, but I did, okay? I hadn’t heard from you…I thought…” Dean shook his head and fisted his hand into the blankets bunched around waist. “And then I find out mom could be alive, and this girl could help us get her back and I just…” He took a breath. “We needed her, Cas. If there was even a slight chance of getting mom back…I had to take it. Damn the consequences.”

Dean snarled and ripped the sheets off his body. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and made to stand. Cas was quick, reaching out and wrapping a firm hand around Dean’s wrist. The hunter tugged, but Castiel shook his head and slid up behind him. Cas looped his arms around Dean’s waist and rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turned his head, refusing to look at the angel. Afraid of what he might see. Disgust. Anger. Rejection. Neither of which Dean could take from Cas right now. Or ever.

“Your father did you a disservice, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said solemnly, not at all surprised when Dean jerked in his arms and turned an angry stare on him.

“What the fuck, man-“

“Let me finish,” Castiel sighed, placing a soft finger over Dean’s lips. The man glowered, but fell silent.

“I understand your need to stay loyal to your father,” Cas murmured. “I do believe he did his best in an impossible situation. I don’t mean to insult his memory, but just because he was your father doesn’t mean what he taught you was right.”

“He taught me how to survive,” Dean bit off each word with barely controlled fury.

“He taught you how to be his soldier,” Castiel said, slowly, carefully. He watched the emotions flicker in and out of green eyes, saw the muscles tightening, jaw clenching. Cas didn’t have to be an angel to feel the resentment, the bitterness, coming off the other man. He could see Dean shutting down, the walls coming up, and Cas thought maybe this was a huge mistake. What right did he have to bring this up, to lecture him?

Castiel tore his gaze away to settle on the desk pressed up against the wall. He pointedly ignored the picture of Dean’s mother, opening his mouth to apologize and beg forgiveness.

“…What else was he supposed to do?” Dean’s voice broke through Castiel’s mental berating, rough and low. The angel snapped his head up to find Dean’s eyes on him. They were glossy, which Castiel was sure he supposed to ignore, with a desperate sheen.

“Be your dad,” Castiel sighed, daring to reach out and grasp Dean’s hand. “Not a drill sergeant.”

Dean’s face was always an open canvas for the man’s emotions and thoughts, and Cas watched it closely now. He could almost see the internal battle, one he recognized in himself so well. The need to be a good son. To perform and obey without hesitation. And the desperate blind eye to how wrong it all felt, because the ends always justified the means.

“…I felt sick, pulling that gun on her,” Dean swallowed thickly. “Getting her into this mess. I…” He closed his eyes and shook his head, voice dropping to a near whisper. “I don’t want to be John Winchester, Cas, but…I’m so afraid that I’ll…”

Dean never finished, because Castiel didn’t let him. He moved forward, placing a firm kiss on slightly parted lips. Dean sucked in a surprise breath, this thing between them so new and fresh still. Even Cas sometimes felt it all a dream and that he’d wake up from it. Cold, alone, unwanted. But Dean pressed back, fingers clawing through Castiel’s perpetually mussed hair.

When they eventually pulled apart, Dean was breathless and Castiel was hungry for more. But he refrained and smiled softly, a hand sliding over Dean’s jaw to his chest, where a strong heart beat just below the surface. And just below that was the brightest, most beautiful Castiel had ever seen. The soul he touched years ago, in the deepest pits of hell, and in so doing had been lost ever since.

“I have held your soul, Dean,” Cas spoke low, voice of gravel and whiskey. “You have nothing to fear.”

Dean exhaled sharply and fell back easily when his angel pushed him down. Castiel lost himself in the Righteous Man once again, and Dean followed him gladly.


	2. Jack Learns A Few Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean is actually not scary to be around when Castiel is around and that’s fascinating and intriguing to Jack. Of course, he’s blunt so he says something absolutely nobody wanted to verbalize. Castiel’s more than an anchor or friend to Dean.

It started with the coffee.

 

            Jack watched curiously as Castiel silently handed a still mostly sleeping Dean fresh mug of coffee. Jack didn’t care much for the bitter drink, but the Winchester brothers seemed to live off it. Castiel didn’t drink it either, but he knew how to make it. For Dean. Just the way Dean liked it. And Jack watched, fascinated, as Dean took the mug with a soft grunt and cradled it to his chest.

 

            Jack blinked, waiting and watching. No matter how many times he brought Dean food, or beer, or whatever the man wanted, Dean had always had some harsh comment. A sarcastic snort. Or even just an angry stare.

 

            Jack waited a bit more, but Dean just sipped his hot drink and rubbed his bleary eyes. Jack frowned and glanced at Castiel, who seemed at ease around the two brothers. As if he…belonged.

 

            Jack stood to follow Sam out the door, ready to do their job. He glanced back only a second to see Castiel stand as well. But Dean, with a simple hand gesture, gave the angel pause. Castiel silently sat back down and waited. Because that was all he needed. He understood Dean.

 

            Jack did not.

~*~

 

            They were at a diner. One of those new ones that tried to look retro, like it was built in the 60s but really it was only a few years old. Over the top décor, complete with a mural of old cars and waitress on skates.

 

            Dean, who always seemed to lead by default, sat them near the back. In a booth that squeaked. The table had a miniature juke box that took quarters and had 10 songs. They all ordered, except Castiel, who sat close to Dean. Their arms brushed together, but neither seemed to mind. Jack glanced at Sam, on his right, and at the near foot of distance between them.

 

            Their burgers arrived (Sam got a salad, which Dean scoffed at). While they ate and discussed the current case, Castiel reached over and fiddled with the knob on the jukebox. His head tilted, his eyes squinted. Jack watched, enraptured, as Dean ceaseless handed over a quarter while munching on a fry. Castile wordlessly stuck the quarter inside and a few moments of indecision, picked a song.

 

            _you need cooling_

_baby I’m not fooling_

_i'm gonna send ya_

_back to schooling_

Dean began bobbing his head, mouthing the words in between bites. Castiel leaned back in the booth, shoulder leaning against Dean’s as he gazed out the window. Sam ate his salad, Dean devoured his burger and occasionally passed a fry to Cas, who ate it even though he didn’t need it. And Jack watched this all, his own food completely forgotten.

 

~*~

 

            Jack sat in the backseat of the Impala. Normally he would be watching the trees fly by, the rain drops splatter across the glass of the windows, but his eyes were trained dead ahead. At the two in the front.

 

            Dean and Castiel. Sam was back at the bunker, sick with the cold of all things. Dean’s music was playing at a moderate level and the hunter was drumming his fingers on the wheel. The drive had remained conversation free for the most part. It made Jack twitch, but Castiel seemed…content with it all. He sat comfortably up front, watching the rain and lightning with eyes that spoke volumes. Like the angel knew just what is was like to fly into the heart of the storm.

 

            Jack blinked when Castiel suddenly moved, reaching over to the cassette player. Jack’s jaw dropped as Cas wordlessly ejected the tape. Jack cast an anxious look to Dean, remembering a time when he’d tried to ask to change the music. If looks could kill, Jack would’ve burst into flames.

 

            Dean’s fingers paused and he blinked, but said nothing as Cas rummaged through the collection of tapes. Once settled on one, Castiel popped it in and once again music filled the car. Jack watched Dean pick up his drumming once again, as if nothing had happened, as if Jack’s world wasn’t just tilted on its axis.

 

~*~

 

            Jack followed silently behind the three. He still felt unsettled by places like this. The big red ‘Target’ was lit up above as they walked across the parking lot. Once inside, Sam grabbed a cart and darted off towards the grocery side. Dean and Castiel, however, walked towards men’s clothes at a more leisurely pace. Jack, without much thought, followed them.

 

            People rushed by them, some in a hurry, some with upset children, and some with overfilled arms because they only come in for one thing. He watched as Dean, oddly, let Cas lead the way. The angel walked around the racks of clothes, occasionally touching one the flannel shirts. Jack felt sorry for Cas. He’d made the mistake of asking for something once, at another Target. Dean had snapped, saying they didn’t have the extra cash to spend on things they didn’t need. Jack just hoped Cas kept his desires to himself.

 

            They found the socks and here Castiel paused. Dean almost ran into him, stopped in time, but didn’t move out of Castiel’s space. His chest brushed up against the angel’s arm as Cas observed a pack of men’s socks. They had bees on them. Castiel smiled softly and took them off the hook, running a thumb over the material.

 

            Then they moved on, the pack of socks in Castiel’s hand. Jack frowned as he followed, so deep in thought he hadn’t noticed they made it back to the clothes. He blinked as Castiel held up a few shirts to Jack, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Jack realized Castiel was sizing them, making sure they fit him.

 

            In the end, the Impala’s trunk was filled with food and Jack’s shirts. He sat in the back with Cas, who held his bee socks, and began to wonder.

 

~*~

 

            Jack came to a conclusion on a Thursday afternoon.

 

            He was in the garage, watching Dean rattle around under the hood of the Impala. He couldn’t understand how Dean knew how to take the engine apart and put it back together. It all seemed rather complicated to him. He’d tried to help once, to learn how, but the only thing he’d learned was that Dean Winchester didn’t let anyone touch Baby.

 

            Except…

 

            Castiel had his trench off, his sleeves rolled up. He was hunched down beside Dean, their hips bumping, as Dean showed him…something. Jack had no idea, but he didn’t care. What he cared about, what was absolutely boggling, was that Castiel was the one with the tool in his hand. Dean showed him where it went, Cas made an attempt and failed, and Dean patiently explained it all again.

 

            Cas bent over, eyebrows knitted in concentration, and Dean’s hand came up to the small of his back. And stayed. They both bent underneath the hood, cheeks just an inch apart, voices low, and that hand was still there.

 

            “Oh,” Jack breathed. “ _Oh_ …”

 

~*~

 

            They were in the library, researching a case. Jack was good at this and so he was eager to impress. When Dean called a short break, Jack opted to bring everyone a fresh drink. He brought Sam a tea, and placed a single beer between Dean and Cas.

 

            Dean blinked. “We only had one left?”

 

            “Not at all,” Jack beamed, pleased with himself. “But I read that couples like to share their drinks.”

 

            Sam choked on his tea and launched into a coughing fit. Dean sputtered, face turning a deep shade of red. Castiel tilted his head, looking curiously at the bottle of beer.

 

            Jack’s grin faltered a bit. “I…I’m sorry. The site actually said shakes, but we don’t have any…is it supposed to be shakes?”

 

            Sam was now laughing, wheezing actually. Dean looked ready to explode, and hadn’t managed to get a single coherent sentence out. Castiel was silent, thoughtful, until he purposefully picked up the beer and took a sip.

 

            “No, Jack,” Castiel said smoothly, gently placing the bottle down. “Beer is just fine.”

 

            Dean cursed, Sam fell out of his chair, and Jack began to wonder if he’d ever understand these three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to prompt me, send me a message and I will give you my Tumblr handle. I'm not posting it here for my own reasons. My Ask Box is always open so don't be shy!


	3. Copycat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mimicry is the best form of flattery! Jack mimics Dean and Castiel's mannerisms.

Dean first noticed something strange when he ambled into the kitchen one morning. Wearing his dead guy robe and not much else, he startled when he found Jack staring intently at a pie. A fresh pie. A fresh apple pie by the smell of it. Dean quickly closed his robe and tied it, praying to whoever was still listening that the boy didn’t see his junk.

 

            Jack didn’t seem to notice his presence. He held a fork in his hand like a weapon, like he was about to face war and it was all he had to defend himself. Dean blinked and watched, still a bit bleary from sleep, as Jack carefully stuck the fork in the pie and cut a small piece. He brought to his mouth and chewed slowly, carefully, as if trying to taste every molecule. Which, hell, he might actually be doing.

           

            After a few more bites, Jack seemed to come to a conclusion. He smiled, nodded to himself, and wrapped up the rest of the pie. Dean, despite really wanting some now, left Jack and the pie to shuffle back to his room, a confused look in his eyes.

 

~*~

 

            The second time was in the Impala. Dean was in a good mood. He’d just washed her up and she was sparkling like new. Shiny, black, with fresh oil and new tires. The day was sunny with hardly a cloud in the sky. He had the music cranked up, Led Zeppeline blasting through the speakers. Dean was drumming along on the steering wheel, Sam was hunkered down in the passenger seat look up details for a case. Castiel sat quietly in the back with Jack, who…was starting to sing along with Dean.

 

            Sam blinked and looked up, glancing at Dean curiously who just shrugged. He had no idea when Jack learned the words every song on the tape, but he sang right along with Dean the whole way to the motel. And when Dean cut the ignition, he spared a glance at Jack. He was smiling softly, looking all around very pleased.

 

~*~

 

            “I’d like to go to a bar,” Jack proclaimed, thus becoming the third time Dean thought something odd was going on.

 

            The hunter blinked, hands pausing. His gun, half assembled, was forgotten for a moment. “You…what?” Dean said slowly, because surely heard that wrong.

 

            “A bar,” Jack repeated patiently. “That’s the place with beer, right?”

 

            “Uh…” Dean swallowed and lowered his hands, still clutching pieces of his gun. “Well, yeah…”

 

            “I saw one,” Jack smiled. “Just down the road. You like to drink after a successful case. To…’unwind’.”

 

            Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

            “That’s what Sam said,” Jack shrugged. “I think we should unwind now.”

 

            “…Sure, kid,” Dean cleared his throat, quickly reassembling the gun. “Yeah, we can do that.”

 

            “Great!” Jack jumped up. “I’ll go get father and Sam.”

 

            Dean was left blinking at the dirty motel wall, wondering if they’d even let the kid drink. He didn’t look 21 at all and Dean hadn’t made a fake I.D. yet. Maybe he should once they were back at the bunker…

 

~*~

 

            Dean was hardly touching his beer, too busy watching Jack. Jack and Cas, actually. Watching Cas was nothing new, Dean thought abashedly. He was well acquainted with the angel’s quirks. The way he tilted his head and squinted his eyes like a confused, slightly grumpy kitten. The way he drank his beer. Slowly, because Dean knew Cas didn’t like the stuff but drank it anyway. The way he peeled off the label so carefully, until the bottle was naked between his fingers.

 

            Dean knew all of this and was watching Jack, seeing double. Jack had ordered the same drink. He did the head tilt as Sam explained the different between a poltergeist and a ghost, went squinty-eyed when Dean skillfully evaded the question of glory holes. Drank slowly, clearly not enjoying the taste of his beer but eventually drained the bottle anyway-the label off.

 

            And maybe it was the alcohol, but Dean could swear the two were starting to look alike. Like…a lot. Seriously, if he didn’t know better, Dean would bet Castiel and Kelly had-

 

            Nope. Nuh uh. Not going there. Dean shook his head, drained his beer, and ordered another.

 

~*~

            Dean almost dropped his bowl of mac ‘n cheese and will forever deny the yelp that escaped when Jack plopped himself down next to him. Well, actually, he was practically in Dean’s lap. Their legs were pressed together, arms almost tangled, shoulders brushing.

 

            Dean leaned forward, looking pointedly at the plethora of space left on the couch, then back at Jack.

 

            “Hey, uh…kid,” Dean coughed. “You mind, uh…scooching a bit?”

 

            Jack, who’d been beaming, blinked at Dean with confusion.

 

            “…’scooch’?” He said slowly, his eyes fucking squinting and his head fucking tilting.

 

            “Yes,” Dean ground out. “As in, move over, man. You’re crowding me here.”

 

            “Oh!” Jack blushed and moved to the other end of the couch. “Sorry, Dean. You always let father sit so close, I just thought you liked it that way.”

 

            Dean choked.

 

~*~

 

            “Dean,” Jack spoke reluctantly, nervously. Dean was immediately on edge.

 

            “Yeah,” he grunted as he grabbed his towels from the dryer. They were warm and fluffy, perfect for his shower.

 

            “May…may I borrow a shirt?”

 

            Dean paused and glanced up. He watched Jack watch him, hands twitching.

 

            “…Why?”

 

            “Father seems to enjoy wearing your shirts in the morning-“

 

            Dean went red, very red, very quickly.

 

            “And I thought-“

 

            “No!” Dean shouted, pushing past Jack and clutching his basket of towels tightly. “Just-no. Never ask again.”

 

            Jack squinted at the dryer, still filled with towels, wondering about the enigma that was Dean Winchester.

 

~*~

 

            “Alright, that’s it,” Dean growled, startling Jack out of his stare off with the mirror.

 

            The boy was wearing a neatly pressed suit, with a solid blue tie, and an old trench coat of Castiel’s hanging off his shoulders.

 

            “What are you trying to pull, kid?” Dean crossed his arms, feeling very much like a parent and not liking it one bit.

 

            “I…” Jack opened and closed his mouth several times, tugging at his trench nervously. “Just…um…”

 

            “Well?” Dean barked, causing Jack to flinch back.

 

            “I-I just thought…well I read that mimicking someone you admire is the best form of flattery,” Jack swallowed. “And I know you…didn’t like me at first. And father barely knows me…and I just thought…”

 

            He fell silent and lowered his head. Dean stood in silence, mouth hanging open, and feeling like a complete ass. Which wasn’t a new feeling, but he still didn’t like it.

 

            “…Oh…” was all he could say. He uncrossed his arms, glanced around the room, thinking he could probably just bail. But that’d make him even more of an ass and he had enough against him as it was.

 

            Dean sighed and scrubbed his face with his hand.

 

            “Jack…” Dean cleared his throat. Shit he really wasn’t good at this. Where was his Sasquatch of a brother when you needed him?

 

            “You don’t…have to be me. Or Cas,” Dean said. “You just have to be you, okay? Trust me, kid. We have enough of me going around. And Cas…well I don’t think anyone could be Cas even if they tried.” He smiled slightly, then quickly wiped it off his face. “So, just…be Jack, and we’ll be good, okay?”

 

            Jack beamed and nodded. He surged forward, pulling Dean into a tight hug that the hunter only returned so it would end.

 

            “I’ll be me then,” Jack said, chucking the trench and walking out of the room. Dean stood for a moment, biting his lip, before quickly snatching up the trench and slinking off to his room. It shouldn’t go to waste, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to prompt me, send me a message and I will give my Tumblry handle. I am not posting it here for my own reasons. My Ask Box is always open so don't be shy!


	4. Dishwasher Safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cas gets his arm stuck while reaching into or behind something and can’t manage to get free. Dean comes home to find him like that. Cas sheepishly asks for help. Dean decides to help him with something else first…

The door sounded, followed by heavy footsteps of thick boots.

 

“Cas? I’m home!”

 

“Dean?”

 

“Babe? What are you-“

 

Dean’s voice, which had been getting closer, suddenly stopped. Castiel tried to twist his head around, but all he could see was the steel tips of Dean’s shoes. Silence reigned for a moment, then Dean snorted out a laugh. Followed by more laughter, until the man was nearly doubled over with it.

 

“It’s not funny,” Cas mumbled, feeling his face heat up.

 

“It’s…I mean, it’s kind of funny, Cas,” Dean gasped, his chuckles dying out.

 

Castiel sighed, resting his forehead against the cabinet.

 

“Could you just help me?”

 

Dean shook his head and knelt down, catching his husband’s eyes.

 

“Hi,” Dean said with a cheeky grin.

 

“Hi,” Cas grumbled, trying to look away and finding it incredibly difficult. It was either Dean’s annoyingly smug face or the dirty floor. They really needed to mop, Cas thought grumpily to himself.

 

“How did you even get stuck, man?” Dean asked, leaning in closer to take a look.

 

“My arm went in just fine,” Castiel snapped, trying in vain to tug it free. “The cat’s toy rolled between the gap and I thought I could get it without unscrewing the front panel off.”

 

Dean scoffed. “I gotta say. Of all the places to get your arm stuck, this is the weirdest. Cas, it takes like two seconds to unscrew the panel. They make it that way so you can get to the wires underneath.”

 

“Dean,” Castile huffed. “Lecture me later. I’m pinned underneath the fucking dishwasher and I’ve been here for an hour. Please, just-“

 

“An hour?!” Dean barked out a laugh, slapping his thigh. “Babe, why didn’t you just call me?”

 

“Do you see my phone?” Castiel growled. “It’s on the couch. I can’t exactly get to it, now can I?”

 

“Alright, alright, grumpy,” Dean chuckled, giving Cas a pat on the rump. Castiel twitched and glared.

 

“I’m so glad you find this amusing,” he hissed out.

 

“Yeah, I do,” Dean shrugged, looking way too at ease with the whole situation. “It’s not every day my husband’s ass is waving in the air-“

 

“My ass in the air every night-“

 

“-In the middle of the kitchen.”

 

Castiel opened his mouth to argue, but gave up and sighed. They hadn’t actually done kitchen sex yet, so Dean had a point.

 

“Be that as it may,” Cas tried again to tug his arm free. “I’m still stuck. Please go get your tools. My knees are starting to hurt.”

 

“Hm…”

 

“What?” Cas blinked, trying to twist to see Dean’s face and only managing to pinch his arm. “What’s with the ‘hm’?”

 

Instead of answering, Dean decided to start undoing Castiel’s pants. Cas tried to shift away, which was just stupid, but damn it now was not the time!

 

“Dean!” Castiel barked. “What-hey-put my pants back-don’t touch that!”

 

Dean was humming pleasantly to himself as he tugged the jeans and boxers down, revealing his husband’s cute butt. He squeezed a cheek appreciatively and chuckled when Cas gasped.

 

“Sorry, baby…” Dean whispered, not sounding sorry at all. “But I can’t pass this up. You always get out of kitchen sex-“

 

“It’s not clean!” Cas snapped.

 

“And you’re so tempting like this. I gotta get a little somethin’, right?” Dean grinned and slapped his hand down, the cheek jumping beneath his palm. Castiel yelped and blushed furiously. And, damn it all, his cock twitched with interest.

 

“Dean, I swear-“

 

“Yeah, you’ll definitely be swearing,” Dean smirked and slapped the exposed ass again. Castiel twitched, his hips thrusting back for more even as he mumbled threats underneath his breath.

 

“Oh!” His eyes flew open when he felt a wet, warm tongue at his opening. “Dean!”

 

“Mm, I love your pretty little hole…” Dean firmly grasped both cheeks and spread them wide, exposing Castiel’s twitching entrance. “And I know you love it when I lick you open.”

 

Castiel bit his tongue. He couldn’t argue with that, but he wasn’t going to give Dean the satisfaction of asking for it.

 

It seemed Dean didn’t need him to, though, because the man just chuckled and went to work. Castiel held back a moan when that skilled tongue started licking at his rim. Dean worked him slowly, saliva dripping down his chin, until Castiel was wet and sloppy with it.

 

“Ah, yeah…just like that,” Dean whispered, massaging his husband’s ass. “Nice and slippery for me.”

 

“Dean…” Castiel whimpered as his whole body shook with need.

 

“Yes, Cas?” Dean kissed a cheek then bit down gently, soothing it over with his tongue. Castiel shuddered and bit his bottom lip, refusing to beg.

 

Dean didn’t seem to mind, though. His tongue slipped between Cas’ cheeks and left a wet trail all the way down to his puckered hole. “I bet you could come just like this,” Dean whispered against Castiel’s heated skin. “My tongue and fingers playing with your hole…”

 

Cas groaned embarrassingly loud as his hips began to gyrate, seeking any kind of friction against his flesh. His back arched, curving so prettily for Dean.

 

“Fuck, you look so good like this, baby…” Dean reached down between his own legs, giving his significant bulge a brief squeeze. “I was gonna fuck you, but…” He rubbed his thumbs against Cas’ wet, pink rim and licked his lips. Castiel pushed up against him eagerly.

 

“Yes, Dean, please…” Cas whispered, the pain in his knees forgotten and his arm long since gone numb.

 

“Shh, I’ll take of you, baby,” Dean rumbled. He resituated his legs, straddling Castiel’s leg and pressing himself into his husband’s strong runner’s calf. He opened his mouth wide and worked his tongue back inside. Castiel mewled unabashedly and it went straight to Dean’s dick.

 

“That’s it,” Dean breathed, flicking his tongue against Castiel’s sensitive skin. “Make those pretty noises for me.”

 

Castiel didn’t let him down. The more Dean’s sinful mouth worked him over the louder Cas became, until his mantra of _DeanDeanDean_ seemed to echo off the kitchen walls. He moved desperately, as much as his wedged arm would allow, fucking himself back against Dean’s tongue and fingers. His cock hung heavy between his head, red and swollen with need. Pre-come dribbled to the floor as it bobbed.

 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped when a finger pressed up against a bundle of nerves. Dean was merciless, pushing in four fingers. Castiel scraped the floor with his free hand, nothing but garbled mess spilling from his lips.

 

“Oh, oh, yes…there-Dean! Just-ohmygodfuck-I’m coming, DeanDean!”

 

He moaned and let go. His dick jerked and spilled onto the linoleum beneath him. Dean worked him through it until Castiel started twitching away, his hole over stimulated and fucked out thoroughly.

 

Together they carefully sank into a tangled mess on the floor, breathing deep and saying nothing. Dean pressed soft kisses to his husband’s belly, feeling warm and content even with the near painful throb between his legs. He’d been working so much lately, barely home in time to sleep before heading back out again. Him and Cas hadn’t had a moment like this in weeks. It was…nice.

 

“Dean…”

 

“Mm, yeah, baby?”

 

“Please go get your fucking tools and get me out of this.”

 

Dean laughed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to prompt me, send me a message and I will give you my Tumblr handle. I am not posting it here for my own reasons. My Ask Box is always open so don't be shy!


	5. Of Cat Food and Strays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you write a destiel ficlet/drabble about them arguing about something stupid while in public? It can be about anything and take place anywhere but there are bonus points if they roast eachother and double bonus points if Sam and Jack are some how incorporated into the story! Thank you!

            Sam felt it in the air. On the back of his neck. In his very bones.

 

            They were about to fight. A classic Dean and Cas showdown. Right there in the middle of aisle 12, over a bag of cat food.

 

            He gripped the handle of the basket, eyes darting in front then behind him. Could they get away before it started? Because, inevitably, he’d be sucked into it. Jack, too, probably.

 

            “You’re not feeding any damn _strays_.”

 

            Sam desperately backed away, tugging the cart along with him. Jack followed slowly, unsure as to what was happening but not really wanting to stick around and find out.

 

            “Dean, I’m just leaving a bowl outside.”

 

            Damn it. There was an older lady blocking his way. Seriously, how long did it take to pick out some cat litter? It’s all the same!

 

            “Yeah you say that and next thing I know you’re letting them _inside_.”

 

            “Is that really so bad-“

 

            Finally she moved. Sam shoved the basket forward, Jack hot on his heels. Except now there was a man trying, and failing, to pick up what must have been a 50 pound bag of dog food.

 

            “ _Yes_ , Cas.”

 

            “Why, exactly?”

 

            Maybe Sam could just push the man out of the way?

 

            “Because one cat turns into 20-“

 

            “That’s ridiculous-“

 

            “And then the fur gets everywhere, on my clothes-“

 

            “Dean you had ghoul guts on the very shirt you’re wearing _three days ago_.”

 

            Sam grabbed Jack’s arm and decided the hell with it. They would push pass the man, rudeness be damned.

 

            “Yeah, and that still came out easier than damn cat hair would!”

 

            “So you’re saying you prefer ghoul over my cats?”

 

            “No-wait, _your_ cats? I thought you were just ‘leaving a bowl out’-“

 

            “Fine. Next time, we’ll just get a pet ghoul because it’s only about you want, Dean.”

 

            “Cas, that’s not what-Sam, where they hell are you going?”

 

            Sam flinched as he and Jack were about to round the corner, thus escaping the impending storm brew just behind them. Or so he thought.

 

            “Uh, well…” He thought desperately. “We-we need milk. Yes, milk! I’m gonna go get the milk.”

 

            “Oh, of course,” Dean sneered, throwing the bag of cat food in the cart. “So you’re on the crazy cat angel’s side.”

 

            “What? Dean, no, we just need-“

 

            “Yeah, you need your precious milk to give to the precious, mangy street cats outside.”

 

            “ _Mangy_?” Castiel drew a firm line with his lips, eyes turning just a shade stormier and Sam knew it was too late.

 

            “Cas, he didn’t mean-“ Sam tried to smooth it over, but the angel was paying no attention to the taller brother.

 

            “Was I _mangy_ , Dean, when I was on just a stray on the streets?”

 

            Sam watched his brother struggle to keep up with what was rapidly growing into a completely different argument.

 

            “I-Cas, what-you were never-“

 

            “Maybe that’s why you kicked me out of the bunker.”

 

            Dean’s stance stiffened, his face turning to stone. “ _No_ ,” He said roughly, voice like sandpaper. “That is _not_ what-Cas, you know why-“

 

            “Maybe Gadreel was just a convenient excuse.”

 

            “Okay, that’s enough,” Sam made sure to use his ‘I’m bigger than both you so you should listen to me’ voice and stood between both of them. The air was electric, probably literally considering there was a pissed off angel here, and people were starting to take notice to the commotion. “This is-just, we need to go. Now.”

 

            He grabbed the cart and pointedly pushed it towards the front of the store. Jack followed silently behind, unsure of what to make of what just happened. After a few moment’s pause, Cas and Dean followed after them.

 

~*~

 

            The cat food sat on the kitchen counter like a silent trigger. Everyone ignored it. Dean put the groceries away, snarling at anyone who tried to help. Jack, despite the obviously uncomfortable atmosphere, did not retreat to his room and instead watched Dean cook up a few burgers for dinner. Sam, knowing very much how his brother worked, went to the library to give the man some space. Castiel was nowhere to be found inside the bunker. As soon as they had gotten back, he took off towards the trees that surrounded the place.

 

            Dinner was a silent affair. Sam tried to start a few light conversations with Jack, but after a few Dean Death Glares, he shut his mouth and ate quietly. Castiel’s seat was empty next to Dean and the loudest thing in the room.

 

            Finally, as he was washing dishes, Dean’s shoulders suddenly sagged. He looked at the space next to him, where Cas would usually stand to help dry what Dean washed. He swallowed, put the plate he’d been working on down, and walked out of the kitchen with the bag of cat food in hand. Sam sighed audibly and Jack had the ever present look of curious confusion.

 

~*~

 

            Castiel found him sitting on the steps outside the bunker. The bowl of cat food by his leg and two of the tree cats Cas feeds eating contently. Without a word Castiel sat beside the hunter. The air was slightly cool and damp, the night sky murky with clouds threatening rain. For a while the only sounds were the nibbles of dry food, happy purrs, and the occasional roll of thunder from above.

           

            “Cas…”

 

            Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand. The words died in Dean’s mouth. He forgot what he was going to say, forgot about the cats, the rain drops starting to fall on top of them. All he knew, all he could focus on, was the warm hand on top of his. His fingers twitched then closed around Castiel’s, squeezing just slightly.

 

            The sat, not looking but acutely aware of each other’s presence. Even as the rain began to fall in earnest, and the cats disappeared, and the bowl sat empty. Not moving until cold shivers began to creep down Dean’s spine and he realized how soaked through he was.

 

            Reluctantly they stood and went back inside. Dean paused in the entry way and Castiel stopped, both of them dripping water onto the floor.

 

            Dean was cold and wet, clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. But he had to get his words out. He couldn’t let Cas go on thinking-

 

            “Dean.”

 

            That gravel voice snapped him out of his head and Dean looked up, immediately lost in blue. Castiel reached out and tugged at Dean’s soaked shirt.

 

            “…Let’s get you warm.”

 

            Cas turned and walked away. Dean blinked then shook it off, quickly following the angel to his bedroom. He was very cold, after all.


	6. New Years Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you write tfw 2.0 with their new years resolutions? I think it’s something that Jack would insist on for the human expirence Also, it’s up to you whether it’s going to have destiel or not

          Dean was positive he had cotton in his ears. Maybe he was dreaming. Has been attacked by a Djinn and in the midst of some mind fuck. Part of some perverted fanfic of one of those crazy Supernatural fans (Becky, probably) and Gabriel was back from the dead to make it come true.

          Because there was no way Jack, son of Satan, was standing in front of him with that stupid innocent face and those stupid earnest eyes. Asking him to participate in this stupid tradition that Dean knows full he will not stick to in the slightest.

          “No,” Dean said, arms crossed over his chest, feet planted firmly apart.

          “Dean,” Sam warned, giving him Bitchface #67.

          “What’s the damn point-“

          “Jack wants to experience human traditions,” Sam spoke over him like the rude Sasquatch he was. “And he wants us to help him.”

          “He wants to play ‘normal’,” Dean growled the word out, because he _hated_ it. He opened his mouth, ready to put this discussion six feet under where it belonged just like every dead thing that wanted to pop up in his life. But, goddamnit, Jack’s face fell and he was doing a very good impression of Sam’s Puppy Dog Face #23 and Dean caved.

           “Fine,” he barked, ignoring the look of triumph on Sam’s stupid face. “But I get to pick my resolution with no argument.”

           “Uh-“ Sam started.

           “Done,” Jack nodded happily and scampered off to go do whatever it is that nephilims did.

            Dean grinned and Sam groaned with deep, deep regret.

 

~*~

 

              So it turned out Dean sucked at picking a resolution.

             “Reading,” Dean deadpanned, giving his little brother a Look.

              Sam sighed. “Yes, Dean. I want to read more.”

             “Sammy, you read all the time.”

             “I read lore books for cases,” Sam shook his head, his ridiculous hair moving with him. Dean itched for some scissors. “I want to read for myself. For pleasure. Not research.”

              Dean rolled his eyes, but couldn’t really argue with that. He couldn’t remember the last time he picked up Vonnegut. Still, now that Sammy picked it he couldn’t copy his resolution.

             “You picked yours yet?”

             Dean shrugged, already turning away to head towards the kitchen. Pie would help him think of one.

 

~*~

 

            “You’re…volunteering?” Dean said slowly, his fork full of baked goodness hovering by his mouth.

 

            “Yes,” Jack said happily. “I want to keep helping, but until I get a handle on my powers…” He trailed off and shrugged, his smile diminishing somewhat. “Hunting is still too dangerous for me.”

            Dean nodded around a mouth full of apple pie, cheeks bulging out as he tried to speak. “Thash goo’.”

            “What?”

            Dean swallowed. “That’s good. Do whatever you want, kid.”

            Jack grinned and began narrating the various volunteer opportunities around town. The kid even had pamphlets. Dean inwardly groaned. He was going to be a giant nerd just like Sam.

 

~*~

 

            Dean stared down at the yellow legal pad, his food bouncing, his pen _taptaptapping_ on the paper. He had thought this would be easy, getting to pick his own and all. Something stupid. Like, eat more pie. Exercise less. Go get laid.

            But every stupid thing he wrote down left a heavy feeling in his gut. He didn’t really want to eat more pie. He ate plenty and honestly it was starting to catch up to him. He had a noticeable pudge now that he was able to hide with extra layers, but after every shower he was very aware of its presence. Thus eliminating the exercise less option as well.

            The prospect of going to some bar and hooking up with whatever was available just made him feel sick. Dean wasn’t sure when he’d outgrown it, but somewhere down the line random bathroom sex had lost its appeal.

            A flash of blue eyes and unruly hair in his mind told him exactly when he’d outgrown that habit, but he stubbornly pushed it away.

            So came the somewhat serious ideas. Exercise more, which he crossed out almost immediately. It’s not that he didn’t want to. It’s just that if Sam caught wind of it, the dude would go Mad Trainer on his ass and Dean would probably end up dying on a treadmill from pure exhaustion.

            Wear less plaid. Yeah, right.

            Let Sam drive Baby more. Um, no thank you.

            No more red meat. Ridiculous. What other kind of meat was there?

            Get a hobby. Yeah, but like what? He couldn’t draw stick figures, let alone paint them. What pictures did he have to scrapbook? Also, that was for grandmas anyway. Knitting looked complicated. He could sew alright, but only well enough to mend the occasional rip. Models were stupid. What do you do with them after it’s put together? He sure as shit couldn’t write. And music…well, okay he could actually play the guitar well enough. But his singing was awful.

            Damn it. Whatever. He didn’t have time for a hobby anyway.

            Dean growled, about ready to throw the pad across the room when there was a knock at the door. Grateful for the distraction, Dean grunted a ‘come in’ and tossed the legal pad by his feet on the bed.

            Cas walked in and Dean ignored the little skip his heart did.

            “Hey, man,” he cleared his throat. “What’s up?”

            “Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted in his usual forlorn tone and closed the door behind him. Dean was suddenly aware he was in his bedroom with Cas. Alone. And he was sprawled out on his bed and Cas…was now moving to sit down next to Dean. Which was fine. Totally fine. Normal, even. Like, okay, maybe it wasn’t normal for Cas’s backside to be brushing up against Dean’s leg. Other guys wouldn’t let that happen. But Cas was weird and Dean didn’t really mind

            “I’ve picked my resolution,” Cas started. Dean blinked and felt kind of bad that he hadn’t realized Cas would be participating in this little project.

            “Uh, yeah?”

            Cas nodded. “But…” he paused and looked down at his hands. Dean raised an eyebrow. Cas was noticeably nervous and that had him a little curious.

            “But…?” Dean prompted when it seemed Cas had stalled out.

            The angel sighed. “I would like to…keep bees.”

            Dean blinked.

            “Like… _bee keeping_?”

            Cas nodded. “Yes. Not a lot, of course. Just a few hives. I can harvest their honey…you can use it for cooking or…when you make pancakes…”

            “Cas,” Dean interrupted. “You don’t have to, like, sell it to me. If you want to keep bees, then do it. You’ve helped us save the world more times than I can keep up with. Letting you keep a few bees is the least I can do.”

            Cas looked up from hands which had been clasped together tightly and Dean be damned if the dude’s face didn’t light up like the friggin’ sun.

            “…Thank you, Dean,” Cas was beaming, like Dean had just given him the moon. The hunter could only nod, breathless, as he was pulled into a hug. His arms, only slightly shaky, returned it weakly.

            “Yeah…” He said gruffly. Dean coughed and pulled back, his hand lingering on Cas’s shoulder. “No…no problem, man. Go nuts.”

            Castiel was still smiling and Dean’s heart was thumping. The angel started rattling off everything he would need and Dean just nodded along, even agreeing to help clear some bunker space for the supplies. By the end of it, they were sitting so close Cas was practically in his lap.

            “I’ll start looking for an appropriate spot for the hives,” Cas announced as he stood, clearly excited to get started. “Thank you again, Dean.”

            Dean swallowed, nodded, and blinked when Cas disappeared with a flurry of wind and feathers. He inhaled deeply, the smell of a thunder storm tickling his nose, and leaned back against his headboard.

            He looked down at the forgotten legal pad and picked up his pen. His resolution seemed very simple now.

            _Make Cas smile more._


	7. Trueform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Oh shit, true form Cas is my WEAKNESS! How about a hand at the (IMO) harder take? More abstract and as inhuman as possible, hell I’d be okay if you even do the canon bible take. Dean couldn’t hear Castiel’s true voice but what if he wants to -see- Castiel? And the underlining stress is accidentally blinding Dean like with Pam. It could go either way, he can only see by touching him or maybe he can see him, maybe he can’t… pre-slash to slash? Excuse my old terms I’m old ;;;

          Dean had always been _curious_ about it.

          Ever since Cas had walked into that barn, spouting off crap about his “true visage” and showing the shadows of those beautiful and, frankly, terrifying wings, Dean had _wondered_.

          At first it had been fleeting thoughts that sprung up when Cas showcased his power, reminding Dean that his best friend was not, in fact, human.

          Nowadays it was when Dean tucked himself away in his room at the bunker for the night. When it was quiet and dark, alone and private, he let his mind wander.

          Zachariah had said something about having six wings and four faces. Did Cas have that, too? Or maybe each class of angel looked different. Cas was a seraph and, as far as Dean knew, the only one around.

          He’d done some research on seraphs, what little there was. They were a special class angel, one that no one really knew what their purpose had been. All that was known was that seraphs belonged to the highest order, with specialized abilities other angels didn’t possess. And they were rare, which Dean had guessed. Cas never mentioned other seraphs.

           Dean also knew Cas was big. “The size of your Chrysler building.” He tried not to blush when he thought of Cas being _big_ , but he could never quite fight it.

            So Dean laid in his bed in the dark and thought what it might be like to finally see Cas for what he really was. He also wished he could remember when Cas rescued him from Hell, and thought it was cruel irony that he only remembered the torture (both inflicted and taken). Sometimes Dean thought if he thought hard enough, dug deep enough, he could see a flash of a memory. It always left him with a massive headache and a strange image of what he could only describe as a pulsing, moving nebula of blue and pitch black.

            Despite the pain, though, Dean drudged up that memory as much as he dared.

            It did nothing to prepare him for the real thing.

~*~

            When it was all said and done, Dean’s still not sure how it all happened. He was surrounded by demons, a stupid trap he fell for by his desperation to get to Cas. He fought desperately, but he knew he wouldn’t last. Sam had been separated from him, along with Ruby’s knife. It was a matter of minutes, seconds, before the black eye bastards took him down.

            Cas was just steps away, trapped in a ring of holy fire, while Asmodeus chanted some spell that probably wasn’t good news.

            “Cas!” He yelled, desperately and uselessly, as the demons finally overpowered him. Dean could scarcely see through them, watching as Cas writhed with pain. Dean surged forward, surprising the demons with his strength, because he couldn’t lose him again. He couldn’t watch Cas die again, especially by the hand of some punk ass prince of hell.

            Cas turned his head and their eyes caught, held, as Dean was dragged and hit and sliced. Asmodeus’s voice was loud, getting louder, and Cas shouted. And it took a Dean a moment to understand what the angel was yelling.

            “Close your eyes!”

            Dean did, and then he smelled burning. Felt lightning striking around him. Heard Asmodeu’s confused cry, then the sizzling and popping of flesh being burned. Dean braced himself for the pain, but it didn’t come. He felt warm, though, almost hot. Like he was floating, the air around him thick, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He struggled and choked, there was a loud roaring, the sound of wings, then everything went black.

~*~

            Dean didn’t so much as wake. It was more like he became _aware_. He lay wherever he was, breathing steadily, his eyes open but unseeing. Everything felt fuzzy, warm, like he was wrapped in a thick blanket. Slowly, very slowly, his surroundings came into focus.

            First of all, he was naked. Weird, but he didn’t feel too alarmed by it. Maybe he should, but the knowledge rolled off without much thought. Second, he realized he was laying on…a cloud? No…it was moving, rolling, caressing his skin almost shyly. He blinked at it and focused. It was shades of blue, constantly changing from light to dark to everything in between. It was…very soft, softer than anything he’d ever felt.

            Dean ran a hand along the cluster next to his face. It reacted, shuddering under his touch. He took a breath and finally glanced around. These clouds were…everywhere. And he realized, very suddenly, they were like his memory. Blue nebulas pulsing and moving around him amongst pitch black. Except that wasn’t quite right. He focused his eyes on it and saw the specks of color, like stars in the night sky, glittering and shining.

            It was all stunningly beautiful and _alive_. And Dean knew he should be scared, alarmed at least, but he only felt calm. It was…familiar. He knew this place. It was safe. It was his.

            Dean sat up carefully. The nebula cloud thing looked frail, like he’d fall through any second, but it held his weight easily. The blue silk continued to caress and pulse, and he absent mindedly pet it as he tried to figure out what had happened.

            He remembered demons. Dozens of them. And…Asmodeus. Chanting, working a spell…and Cas. Cas! Trapped, screaming in pain.

            “Cas!” Dean coughed, his voice hoarse.

            _Dean._

He jumped, whipping his head around, but seeing nothing but black and blue clouds. It sounded like Cas, except…more. Like it was made up of thousands of voices and yet none at all.

            _Don’t be afraid, Dean._

“…Cas…?” He whispered hesitantly.

            _Yes. I’m sorry, Dean. I had no other choice. You would have died like the rest of them._

“Uh,” he responded eloquently. “Died…who..?”

            _The demons. Asmodeu’s spell…he didn’t fully understand what it would do. I tried to warn him, but…_

Dean’s brow shot up. “Asmodeus is dead?”

            _Yes, along with the demons._

“How?” Dean breathed. There’d been so many and Asmodeus was strong.

            _Asmodeus pulled me from my vessel._

“What?!” Dean tried to stand, but his legs were wobbly.

            _It backfired on him. Perhaps he thought it would weaken me, but it had the opposite effect. Upon my release he and his demons evaporated._

“How the hell am I still alive then? Where’s Sam?” Dean looked down at himself, as if he expected to be boiled and fried up like chicken. But his body was perfect, if strangely naked.

            _You’re the Righteous Man. You have more of a tolerance to an angel’s light. You lasted just long enough for me to…_

Dean frowned. “For you to what? Cas, where am I? Where are you?”

            _I’m…here. You’re…_

Dean was about to open his mouth and demand some answers before he suddenly understood. He gaped, letting his surroundings sink in, then sputtered like an idiot.

            “Dude,” he squeaked (in a manly way of course). “Did…did you _eat_ me?”

            _That’s a primitive way of describing it-_

Dean rolled his eyes.

            _But for lack of better words you’d understand, yes._

Dean went silent and stared down at the nebula that was supporting him. It was almost see through, the black coming through the ever changing blue. It caressed his feet, hesitant.

            Dean sucked in a shuddering breath. This was…Cas. From the blue crawling up his legs to the vast black around him. Hell, even the air he was breathing. And even so, it was a small part of Cas. The guy was huge.

            He found himself sitting again and the blue silk immediately crawled up and over his legs. His torso, his chest, his neck.

            “Cas…” Dean swallowed, very aware of how naked he was. What the hell happened to his clothes anyway?

            _I’m sorry._

The blue retreated and Dean mourned the loss.

            _My grace…reacts to you. I’ll try to restrain-_

“No,” Dean blurted, then blushed heavily. “I mean, it’s fine…I don’t mind.” _I really like it and want more._

            Cas didn’t answer. The nebula pulsed and rose up once again. Dean slowly laid back and closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the feel of it. It surrounded him in a soft cocoon, covering every inch of him. He blushed more as his cock gave an interested twitch and swallowed thickly.

            “Where’s Sam?” he asked again, voice coming out rougher than he meant.

            _Safe. He’s looking for you. Once I can return to my vessel I can let you go._

“What’s wrong with your vessel?” Dean asked, trying to focus on anything other than the grace flowing across his skin.

            _The spell compromised it. I must make sure it’s removed completely before I can take the vessel back._

“Oh…” Dean trailed off, losing his fight with his confused libido. But, like, what guy wouldn’t get hard to some pulsing heat surrounding his cock?

            He moaned and thrust shallowly, and the blue suddenly began to retreat.

            _Dean, I didn’t realize...I’m sorry…_

Dean grinned, because that sounded like a very flustered angel. And that was kind of hilarious considering how powerful Cas was.

            “Did I say stop?’ he drawled. In the back of his mind Dean questioned where the brevity was coming from. And maybe later he’d regret letting Cas’s cloud grace thing get him off, but right now he didn’t care. His body was thrumming, like his soul was trying to get out. Like it wanted to mingle with the clouds, sink into the black, be a part of Cas and never leave.

            The thought almost scared him, but he recognized it. Dean knew this was how Cas carried him from Hell, how he purged his soul of its demonic taint, and how his grace forever marked him.

            Except now he wouldn’t forget. As the silky cloud surrounded him once again and Dean sighed with contentment, feeling the nebula shudder and pulse, he thought he heard Cas sigh as well and knew things between them were changed forever.

            He was definitely okay with that.


	8. in which Dean is kind of an ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Another, you don’t have to do this one. Idk why but it’s stuck with me for YEARS. A very angst-y take on Castiel’s feelings for Dean being exposed against his will by someone/thing else. And Dean is in peak denial mode and Sam has to stop him saying something regretful or even hurtful, Castiel is devastated bc he never intended for Dean to know bc from his POV it doesn’t matter that Dean may or may not like him, he obviously doesn’t want to. With some strict talk from Sam , bc we need more Dean getting snapped out of his own issues. Also personal request for Dean admitting he’s bi, not gay.

        It was fitting that with Lucifer’s dying breath, as the last sliver of his grace flickered out, that he would finally speak the truth. The father of lies and deceit, betrayal and greed, would whisper the truest words ever spoken-and it was these words that would ultimately destroy Castiel.

_“He loves you.”_

        Cas froze along with Dean, though their looks were vastly different. Dean looked baffled, because of all the things he expected Satan to say, it wasn’t that. Castiel looked stricken and wished, prayed, that the Devil would die faster.

_“I was in his head. I know. He loves you. Isn’t that pathetic? An angel, loving a human.”_

          It was Lucifer’s final act of evil and he smiled as he died, the archangel’s blade sticking out of his chest. Realization dawned on Dean’s face, though he sneered and tossed his head.

          “You’re lying.”

           Lucifer laughed brokenly, his vessel breaking apart.

_“Lying…would be...easier. The truth…is so much…more….painful…”_

           The Devil died on a Thursday, but Castiel hardly noticed. All he could remember from that night was the look on Dean’s face and the feeling that he’d lost his home once again.

 

~*~

 

            “Dean, you have to talk to him.”

            Dean ignored his brother as he dug into Baby’s engine. She’d taken some damage from the skirmish from Lucifer.

            “Dean, come on.”

            “Nothin’ to talk about,” Dean grunted.

            “We all heard what Lucifer said,” Sam continued, relentless. “You can’t ignore it.”

            Dean shrugged. “He lied. He does that. Did that.”

            “No,” Sam huffed. “He only lied when it was to his advantage. He was dead and he knew it. So why not spill Cas’s big secret? He knew you’d react this way. It was to hurt Cas, not you.”

            Dean wiped his hands on a greasy towel and grabbed a wrench. “Drop it, Sam.”

            “Dean, if you don’t talk to him about this-“

            “I said drop it!” Dean growled, whipping around to face his brother. “None of it matters! Nothing is changing.”

            Sam’s face reddened with anger. “So that’s it? You’re just going to ignore it? He’s your best friend, Dean-“

            Dean snarled and threw his towel down. He stomped past Sam, ignoring his brother’s shouts.

 

~*~

 

            It was 2 am. Castiel wandered aimlessly. He brushed his hands across the shelves of the library, the table where Dean and Sam’s initials were carved into the wood. He paused here, thinking it may have been nice to have his there too. To be included. To be wanted.

  1. W.



            His hand fell limply at his side and he continued on. Into the kitchen, where Dean would cook his greasy burgers and Sam would make his salads. Cas never ate, of course, but he’d sit with them. Sometimes in silence, after a hard hunt. Sometimes with conversation, lighthearted and easy.

            He looked in the fridge for no other reason than to give his hands something to do. There wasn’t much. Beer, sandwich meat, a salad, and leftover pizza.

            A sound made Cas straighten, turn, and freeze. Dean stood awkwardly in the threshold, wrapped up in his dead guy robe, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

            “Dean-“

            “I’m just getting a beer,” Dean muttered, brushing past Cas to grab a bottle from the fridge. Castiel watched him walk away, bottle in hand, and realized the man hadn’t even looked at him. He was left alone in silence, his heart slowly shattering into pieces.

 

~*~

            Cas looked at himself in the mirror. A mess of dark hair. Crinkles next to his eyes. Perpetual stubble over a sharp jaw. Broad shoulders. A very flat, very male chest. A stomach with hair trailing down to a flaccid cock, framed by hairy legs.

            Everything Dean didn’t like in a lover.

            The hunter wanted breasts, gentle curves, smooth skin, and the warmth only found between a woman’s thighs.

            Nothing of which Castiel had. He was an angel. Gender meant little to him. The fact that it meant so much to humans still baffled him. But this was his body now and no matter how much he loved him, Dean would never take him this way.

            Cas had been okay with that. As long as Dean didn’t know his feelings, he could remain beside him. A friend and brother. Castiel would love him silently, secretly watching Dean in awe. From the way he moved, the way he spoke, to the way he killed, Castiel thought it was all beautiful. A masterpiece. With a soul so breathtaking that Castiel couldn’t stare at it for too long or he’d be lost.

            Lucifer had ruined it. Cas was going to lose his home again, his family. After he’d worked so hard to keep it, something as simple as having a penis instead of a vagina was going to destroy it.

            Castiel knew he had to leave. It was only a matter of time before Dean came to him and ordered him to go. Cas couldn’t bear that, though. The look of disgust and hatred on Dean’s face. It would smother whatever strength he had left.

            So he would leave. And this time he wouldn’t come back.

 

~*~

 

            Castiel looked down at him, watching him sleep. He shouldn’t have come in here, but couldn’t stop himself from looking at Dean one last time. He traced the freckles on Dean’s face even though there was no need. He knew each one. Had put them there himself. Rebuilding Dean’s body had been painstaking, but one of his proudest moments. To have had a hand in creating something so beautiful was something he’d never forget.

            Cas started to reach out, to touch Dean just once, but stopped himself. Dean wouldn’t want that. His hand fell and Cas turned, prepared to walk out. To leave his home, his family, the one he loved above all others.

            “Cas…?”

            He froze, his heart hammering.

            “…what are you doing?”

            Castiel turned slowly, grappling for an excuse. But there was nothing that could explain him standing in the dark over Dean’s bed.

            “I…” Cas swallowed and tried again. Dean blinked up at him sleepily, but his fuzzy mind would catch up quickly enough.

            “I apologize,” Cas finally managed. “I was just…”

            He shook his head and walked towards the door. It was cowardly, but he couldn’t stand the rejection. It would break him.

            “Cas, wait.”

            “No, Dean, I-“

            “Just wait, damn it.”

            Cas paused, hand on the handle of the door. He heard sheets shuffling and the click of the lamp. The dim light flickered to life and Cas flinched. There was silence for a moment.

            “Where are you going.” It didn’t sound like a question. Dean’s voice was hard, straining.

            Castiel didn’t answer, shoulders hunched. He missed his wings suddenly. He wanted to hide behind them, fly away, so he wouldn’t have to face this.

            “You’re leaving.”

            Cas could only nod.

            “Why.”

            Cas licked his lips. “You know why. You don’t want me here, Dean. It’s plain to see. I…I make you uncomfortable.”

            A curse. “That’s not true, Cas.”

            “You don’t even look at me.” Castiel finally turned to face him, eyes shining. “Won’t talk to me. My…feelings, and this form, upset you.”

            “Cas-“

            “It’s okay, Dean. I can go somewhere else-“

            “ _No!_ ”

            Castiel jumped, eyes widening. Dean stood from the bed and Cas realized he was still in his regular clothes.

            “You’re not going anywhere,” Dean said with finality. “You’re not leaving me-us again.”

            “Dean-“

            “Please, Cas.” Dean’s voice broke and Cas snapped his jaw shut. “Just…I don’t…” He sighed and sat down on the bed. He put his head in his hands and slumped, exhausted.

            “I don’t want you to leave,” Dean said quietly. “And you don’t…make me uncomfortable, okay. Look, I’m…” He swallowed and clenched his fingers into his hair. “..I just…need some time.”

            Cas blinked. “Time?”

            Dean nodded. “This isn’t something I’ve been…open about with myself, okay? My dad made his opinion on it very clear and I’ve spent so long fighting it down, I don’t know how to…to do this.”

            Cas shook his head. “Dean, I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

            “I’m bi, Cas.”

            Castiel’s breath hitched and his ears rang.

            Dean scoffed and rubbed his temple. “That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.”

            Cas sat down heavily next to him, blinking down at his shoes. “Dean, I…”

            “Just give me some time, Cas,” Dean whispered. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

            In a moment of bravery and desperation, Dean reached out. His hand rested in the space between them, palm up. Cas waited only a moment, then slowly took Dean’s hand in his own. He held it gently, but firmly, possessively.

            “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”

            Maybe he’d get his initials on that table after all.


	9. Wedding Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean and Cas plan a wedding together, with Sam as their best man.

            In his most horrible nightmares, Sam never thought this was going to be what killed him. He thought maybe a demon, some rogue angel, a vampire or, you know, another apocalypse. But, as it turned out, it was going to be a wedding. A wedding he was the best man to.

            Dean and Cas’s wedding, to be exact.

            Now, when he had agreed to this, he’d been happy. Excited. Thrilled for the both of them. Of course, it couldn’t be a traditional wedding. Technically Dean Winchester was dead, and Jimmy Novak was missing, _presumed_ dead. But, there was going to be rings and music and guests (hunters mostly).

            A small thing. Uncomplicated. Just for ceremonial purposes, because the two were basically married anyway.

            Somehow, this small ceremony had turned into the kind of monster Sam was inclined to kill. He watched, resigned and tired, as Dean and Cas argued once again over what to serve at the reception.

            “Burgers and fries, Dean, really?” Cas screwed up his face as the roughly pulled off his trench coat.

            Dean shrugged. “Yeah, so? It’s easy.”

            “Dean, this is our _wedding_ ,” Cas tossed the coat across a chair. “Can we not eat something we eat every day?”

            “You don’t even eat anyway,” Dean muttered. Sam winced and scrubbed a hand over his face. Here it comes.

            “That’s so _mean_ ,” Cas gasped, eyes shining with hurt. “That’s the real problem isn’t it?”

            “What?”

            Sam sighed.

            “It’s because I’m… _not human_ ,” Cas spat. “That’s why you fight me on every detail. You don’t actually want to marry me.”

            “Cas, what the hell are you-“

            “No, that’s it,” Cas tugged as his tie angrily. “I should have known. You asked me out of passion-“

            “Uh, guys-“ Sam cleared his throat.

            “In the middle of our love making-“

            “Guys, please, I’m right here…”

            “In the heat of the moment. You didn’t mean it and now you regret it.”

            “Cas, that’s insane,” Dean rolled his eyes. “All I’m saying is our guests are going to be hunters. Hunters don’t exactly do fancy. Burgers. Barbeque. That’s what we do. And you won’t be eating any of it so why does it-“

            “So you don’t think our wedding deserves something a little more special than that?”

            “Cas…” Dean groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “Babe, gimme a break here. I’ve consented to the bee friendly flowers-“

            Sam raised a brow.

            “The Ed Sheeran song-“

            And there goes the second brow.

            “And the tuxes.”

            Sam bit his tongue to stifle a laugh.

            “But I’m not doing some fancy fish or chicken dinner with sides I can’t pronounce and champagne out of a damn flute. We are doing burgers and beer.”

            Silence reigned. Sam looked back and forth between them, holding his breath. The minutes ticked by.

            “Fine,” Cas relented and the room breathed again. “But make it steak.”

            “Deal.”

            They both smiled suddenly, arms finding each other, lips coming together, and Sam quickly found something in the next room that desperately needed his attention right then and there.

~*~

            “I don’t see why we can just have the wedding here.”

            “Dean, it’s the _bunker_.”

            “So?”

            “So, it’s old and dirty-“

            “I just cleaned in here last week-“

            “And full of weapons and there’s a dungeon downstairs.”

            “You never complained about that dungeon before…”

            Sam faltered in his task of cutting up some lettuce for his salad. He started to whistle, loudly, to drown out the two.

            “Dean, this is hardly the place for a wedding.”

            “So, what?” Dean snorted. “You wanna go to a church, find a nice priest?”

            “Of course not,” Cas snapped. “I would never suggest somewhere public. I thought we could have it outside.”

            “Outside? In the mud, with bugs, in the middle of summer?”

            “We can have it in the evening,” Cas pressed on. “Hang some lights in the trees. It would look…nice.”

            Dean sighed. “It’s gonna be hot.”

            “Yes,” Cas nodded, lips twitching.

            “And it’ll be dark so I’m gonna trip over a rock or something.”

            “Quite possibly,” Cas was now smiling, shuffling closer to Dean.

            “And your stupid bees are gonna be _everywhere_.”

            “Happily buzzing,” Cas nodded, taking Dean’s hand in his and pulling him close.

            “The things I do for you,” Dean muttered, going willingly into Cas’s embrace.

            “I know,” Cas chuckled, pressing a kiss to Dean’s cheek. Which turned into his mouth. Then came the tongues and the hands and suddenly Sam wasn’t hungry anymore.

~*~

            “I am not wearing a bowtie,” Dean bellowed.

            Sam groaned from his room, his tuxedo spread out across his bed.

            “You agreed to the tux, Dean,” came Cas’s irritated voice.

            “Yes,” Dean said, storming past Sam’s room and into Cas’s. “And you said nothing about a bowtie.”

            “I assumed you knew tuxedos have bowties.”

            “Well I _didn’t_ ,” Dean hissed.

            “Well that’s hardly my problem.”

            “Cas, I look stupid in it. I’m not wearing it.”

            “Yes, Dean, you are. You promised.”

            “No, I’m drawing the line Cas.”

            “You’re drawing the line?”

            Sam tugged at his hair. Contemplated closing his door. But then that would start a whole new argument, this time with him involved.

            “You insist on dressing me up like a penguin, fine. I’ll do it. But I’m not wearing some Steve Urkel bowtie.”

            “I don’t see what a fictional character with an annoying laugh from 30 year old TV show  has anything to do with our wedding.”

            Sam blinked. He wondered if Cas knew Family Matters because of Metatron or because the angel was binging 80s shows.

            “I’ll look like a dork.”

            “No, you’ll look handsome.”

            Sam gagged.

            Dean grumbled something Sam couldn’t hear.

            “I promise to make it up to you,” Cas chuckled softy.

            “How,” Dean said, no doubt with a pout.

            “I can show you other uses for that tie…”

            Sam quickly shut the door and made a mental note to buy earplugs.

~*~

            “No, take it down a little.”

            Dean grunted. “How’s that?”

            “No, now that side is uneven. Bring it-no, Dean, you’re pulling that whole side down now.”

            “Cas, my arms are killing me and I’m sweating all over myself.” Dean started climbing down the ladder, the sun beating down on his shoulders. He had ditched his shirt a long time ago.

            “Dean, we have to get these lights hung.”

            “Cas,” Dean ground out. “Human.” He pointed at himself. “Hot. Need water.” He started stomping off, Cas following closely behind.

            “Are you a cave man now?” Cas scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If you needed water and a break, all you had to do was say so.”

            “I did,” Dean growled, pulling the fridge door open roughly.

            “When?”

            “Now,” Dean grabbed a water bottle and took a long drink. When he came up for air, panting slightly, he found Cas staring at him. He blinked.

            “What…?” Dean asked tentatively.

            “You…” Cas cleared his throat. “Nothing, you just look…you know, good.”

            Dean smirked slowly and set down his bottle. “Hm, yeah?” He sauntered up to Cas, who began to smirk as he eyed Dean’s sweaty chest.

            “Yes…” Cas licked his lips, bringing a hand up to trace the tattoo. “I…enjoy watching you get sweaty.”

            “Is that why you had me hanging lights all morning?” Dean quirked a brow, grabbing Cas’s waist and pulling his close.

            “Maybe,” Cas shrugged and nipped at Dean’s chest…

            “Guys.”

            They both looked up, blinking at Sam, who was sitting (and had been for quite a while) and eating lunch.

            “I’m. Right. Here.”

            “…Sorry.”

~*~

            Actually, as it turned out, the wedding didn’t kill him at all. Sam smiled from his seat, watching his brother dance with his angel under the moonlight. Eileen sat next to him, her hand in his. Jack was watching as well, looking amazed and curious at the whole affair.

            “They look happy,” he said, turning to face Sam.

            “Yeah, they do,” Eileen smiled. Dean and Cas were close, not a space between them, Ed Sheeran’s _Perfect_ playing over the speakers.

            Sam nodded silently, looking around. At the bee friendly flowers, the lights hung perfectly in the trees, the plates full of steak and fries, and finally coming to rest on the couple once again. In their crisp, black tuxes, bowties and all. The night was perfect. They were perfect. And Sam decided all that bickering and awkward groping he had to witness was well worth it. His brother had never looked happier.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to prompt me, message me and I will send you my Tumblr handle and you can prompt me through there. I don't want to post it for my own reasons. My Ask Box is always open so don't be shy!


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